


my gift of love never unwrapped

by springofviolets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub Undertones, Experienced Katsuki Yuuri, First Time, Inexperienced Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Rimming, Sub Victor Nikiforov vibes, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov's Foot Fetish, Virgin Victor Nikiforov, Virginity Kink, Yakov Feltsman/Suffering, a brief appearance of, hints of service submission, the phichuuri content is in one flashback, victor learns his dirty talk from bodice rippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springofviolets/pseuds/springofviolets
Summary: "Wait, wait," Yuuri says, pulling back and sitting up slightly. "That old myth? Who told you that?"Myth, as in not true? It's definitely true. Victor wouldn't have spent his entire very lonely, very celibate adulthood following a myth. (Well, his entire life up until coming to Hasetsu, anyway. Victor thinks he's been very obvious about how eagerly he would welcome Yuuri making love to him in any manner, position, or room, but preferably on a night they're not at a competition, since you can't have sex before competitions!)*Yakov enforced the notorious "no sex before competitions" rule, and Victor followed it. Except then Yuuri tells him that's been debunked.





	1. Yuuri & Victor (The Main Event)

**Author's Note:**

> \- chapter one is the main/bulk of the fic. chapters two and three are supplemental ficlets.
> 
> \- i don't include any citations but the "no sex before competitions" thing is, in fact, just a tradition with no scientific basis. as long as you're not having a sex marathon an hour before whatever your sport is, you're probably fine. (some coaches in various sports still belief pent up frustration is beneficial...but there's no evidence that it impacts performance because you're tired or sore, etc.)
> 
> \- thanks to a friend who wishes to remain anonymous for some great feedback. <3
> 
> \- title from smokey robinson's "virgin man." it's victor.

Victor's hands have been all over Yuuri since they arrived in China, moreso than usual.

Who can blame him? Yuuri had announced to the entire world that his theme is love because of Victor (not that Victor understood most of the press conference when it happened; he heard his name a few times, and Mari gave him a summary afterwards, curiously gleeful). When Yuuri arrived home in Hasetsu afterwards, he greeted Victor with their first kiss, and Victor melted.

Now, he can't help himself; has no desire to, no matter the hour or place. For his part, Yuuri is less bold, but does not deny the same want. At the hot pot restaurant, after a little too much to drink, Victor's naked skin needs to feel Yuuri, and Yuuri allows him. The day of the short programs, he wraps himself around Yuuri while they watch the others perform on the televisions, and Yuuri lets him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Victor never wants to stop feeling the rush, the spark, he gets from touching Yuuri.

When they finally make it back to their hotel room at the end of the evening, they fall easily into the routine of getting Yuuri out of the Eros costume. Once they're out of their jackets and shoes, Victor turns his attention to the costume, dragging the zipper down his back slowly, pressing kisses to his skin as it's revealed.

"You were beautiful today, my Yuuri," Victor says into his shoulder. "First place, well earned."

"Mm," Yuuri agrees. He allows the costume to be pulled down to his waist, freeing himself from the sleeves, and then turns in Victor's arms. "Do you think they understood me?"

Victor laughs. "My love, I don't think someone could have missed it from space."

"Good." Yuuri tugs on his tie, and Victor falls onto the bed on top of him with a small _oof_. "You're _mine_ ," he breathes, raising himself up on his elbows to catch Victor in a kiss. "Finish taking my costume off," he tells Victor.

He doesn't have to be told twice. Victor works the black material down Yuuri's hips, stopping at the tops of his thighs to let his fingers caress the indentations from the seams. At the inside of Yuuri's thigh, Victor's lips follow his fingers, for just a moment.

He pulls the costume the rest of the way down Yuuri's legs, over and off from his feet; it's then folded quickly but neatly, and placed on the nightstand.

Victor rubs Yuuri's ankles where they rest on his thighs. His thumb digs in just slightly to the knob of Yuuri's ankle, around to his achilles tendon, then the arch of his foot. Victor watches his hands move over the worn flesh of Yuuri's feet. The curve of his instep is enticing, and Victor considers tracing the path his fingers left here with his lips, too, soothing kisses on each bruise--but no, he _can't_ get carried away.

Yuuri's breathing has quickened; he's clearly just as affected as Victor. This is where Yuuri would usually get up and take a shower, but he would also usually still be standing, not laying back on a bed and gazing calmly at Victor, watching Victor reverently touch every inch of his skin. This, instead, is how Yuuri looks when he's working up the nerve to do something.

Only Yuuri's dance belt remains, and Victor's brain nearly short-circuits at the thought of removing it.

"You're still in too many clothes," Yuuri tells him.

"Ah," Victor barely replies. This he can do--Yuuri is giving him instructions that are easy to take. He backs away, moves his legs over the edge of the bed without getting up. Victor unbuttons and discards his shirt quickly, and his pants follow, so he matches Yuuri, leaving him in just his briefs.

He crawls back up to Yuuri and holds his chin. "Did you want a reward for doing so well today?" he teases.

Yuuri grins back at him and kisses him again.  His arm loops around Victor's shoulder and his fingers run through silvery hair as he pulls Victor closer, brings their kiss deeper. Victor licks into Yuuri's mouth, unable to hold back a happy moan when Yuuri sucks on his tongue. They kiss for an endless eternity, and Victor feels blissfully lost, floating, when Yuuri breaks away and trails his mouth down Victor's jaw and neck, choosing a spot below his ear to bite down.

"Yuuri, ah," Victor sighs. Yuuri under him like this will always render him speechless, he thinks.

"Victor." Yuuri mouths over the spot he just bit, and rolls his hips up into Victor's. "Can I--can we have sex tonight?"

Victor hopes he's not flushing. Over the past few weeks, there has not been much time to explore their feelings for each other intimately; between training, traveling and competing, it's really only been some quick handjobs in the dark, keeping quiet by swallowing each others' sounds with their mouths. And on those occasions it's really sort of just happened, not because of Yuuri asking so boldly.

"Mm, anything for my star student," he says instead. "Do you want my hand?"

Yuuri looks up at him through his eyelashes, and Victor wonders, like he does at least ten times a day, how this man is so beautiful. "Actually," he murmurs, voice low, "I'd like to be inside you?"

This time Victor's brain does seem to short-circuit, coming to a shrieking halt, though other parts of his body are suddenly experiencing very urgent, speedy responses. By which he means he's incredibly hard. He wants to, oh how he _wants_ , but--he shakes to clear his head. The _right_ one.

"You know we can't," Victor says firmly, with more conviction than he actually feels. "Not during a competition."

"What? Why?" Yuuri blinks. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to, of course."

Victor grabs Yuuri's hand and kisses his palm; he can feel the beat of Yuuri's heart under his lips. "Believe me, Yuuri, I want to. But you know you're not supposed to engage in any strenuous activity during a competition. We can get ourselves off quickly with our hands if you want, but anything else is too risky. I won't let my lack of self-control impact your performance tomorrow."

"Wait, wait," Yuuri says, pulling back and sitting up slightly. "That old myth? Who told you that?"

 _Myth_?

Myth, as in not true? It's definitely true. Victor wouldn't have spent his entire very lonely, very celibate adulthood following a myth. (Well, his entire life up until coming to Hasetsu, anyway. Victor thinks he's been very obvious about how eagerly he would welcome Yuuri making love to him in any manner, position, or room, but preferably on a night they're not at a competition, since _you can't have sex before competitions_!)

"What do you mean, who told me that?" Victor thinks wildly back to the first time it came up with Yakov. Bless his heterosexual soul, but Yakov did not have an easy time having The Sex Talk with a twelve year old already-extremely-gay Victor and then telling him that he couldn't have it. "Yakov always enforced that rule for all of our skaters. He warned us we'd be sore and fatigued. Even Johnny Weir has talked about not doing it! Everyone, Yuuri. It's a rule you're not supposed to break. Everyone knows that." 

Nodding slowly, Yuuri says, "I respect that," in a tone that suggests he absolutely does not. "But that's not actually true. I guess some coaches just aren't up to speed?" Here Yuuri gives a little laugh. "Celestino told us the same thing back in Detroit, and Phichit researched it to prove him wrong. They've done studies on it and everything. It has zero impact on performance unless you're doing it immediately beforehand, and maybe not even then, I promise."

Part of him itches to reach for his phone and google that, but he doesn't need to, really; it's not out of doubt that what Yuuri says is true, but an urge to see in words that Yakov was wrong.

Had Yakov _known_?   

"I can't believe Yakov lied to me like this," Victor says. "All that wasted time," he sighs dramatically.

Victor could have confirmed it himself before, he supposes, but he never had anyone who made him feel the need to question it. Yuuri, however, obviously did. Victor's not jealous, really, but he does wish he had Yuuri back then, Yuuri who reminds him that tending to his emotional needs is just as important as training, or that he even _has_ emotional needs. Now he does; now he can have that.

Yuuri huffs a small laugh again. "What did you do, just restrict it to the off season?" 

"Hm? What do you mean--oh, no." Victor waves a hand, affecting a cool, detached demeanor, impressive, he knows, for someone currently halfway on top of his boyfriend, clad only in tiny bikini underwear. "I was training all the time, obviously. I was never going to compromise that. So I just didn't."

He can tell the moment it hits Yuuri, because his eyes widen and he sucks in a breath. "Oh. Does that mean you never…"

Victor curls back into Yuuri, running his hands over Yuuri's strong arms, his toned stomach. Yuuri's skin and muscle under his hands feel so good, and makes him very aware that he is still hard. He doesn't feel a shred of shyness or embarrassment when he says, "No. There was no one before you for anything, Yuuri." God, he wants to see more of Yuuri now. His hand creeps down to the band of Yuuri's dance belt.

"But," Yuuri says, grabbing and stopping Victor's hand. He opens his mouth to continue, then stops, pauses, then starts again. "You were going to tell me about your lovers when we met!" Yuuri protests.

It would be nice if Yuuri would be less talk and more action now that they're in agreement this is not going to ruin his skate tomorrow, Victor thinks. Still, he answers with, "I thought I was trying to seduce a casanova! Honestly, my plan was to exaggerate the clandestine makeout sessions I had with Georgi's cousin when I was seventeen."

"A casanova? Ha, ha." Victor frowns at the sarcasm in Yuuri's voice, but before he can say anything, Yuuri rushes on. "I had no idea. We don't have to do it tonight, then. When we get back to Hasetsu, we can try. If you want," he says softly.

Victor sits up and turns to look at Yuuri. "Are you saying, after you just convinced me it's okay to have sex before competitions, that we're _not_ going to do anything after all?"

A lovely pink spreads across Yuuri's cheeks. "I want to make it special for you."

"Yuuri! You're so cruel!" Victor cries. "You will make me wait even longer? Do you know how long I've been dying for you to do something? I thought showing up naked in Hasetsu would have told you that." He leans down to nuzzle his nose in Yuuri's hair. "I'm not nervous. I'm ready. I've been _waiting_. Anything with you will be special, you know."

Yuuri makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan, but he's smiling. He tilts his head up, brings his lips to Victor's. "Okay," Yuuri says. "But I'm still taking my time with you."

"Yes, fine. Now _please_ let me get you naked,"  Victor says.

This time when Victor goes to push down Yuuri's underwear, he isn't stopped, and Victor tosses them onto the floor. He stares at Yuuri for a moment, all his glorious naked skin. Yuuri's cock lays thick and heavy on his stomach; the catalog of dicks Victor has seen is a brief one, and half made up sex toys he's bought, but he's seen enough to know that Yuuri is big.

"Yuuri," Victor moans, stroking his finger down Yuuri's cock. He moves down Yuuri's body so he's straddling Yuuri's knees.  Quick handjobs in the dark are forgotten, because this is the first time Victor is seeing Yuuri up close. He's never wanted anything in his life as much as he wants Yuuri's cock right now. Victor's head is spinning and his mouth is watering. "Oh, Yuuri, please," he chokes, and wraps his hand around him. He leans down to bring the tip to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste him.

Yuuri's hips buck suddenly. "Ah, shit."

Encouraged, Victor spreads the wetness from the precome and from his mouth, and uses it to smooth his strokes up and down Yuuri's cock. He grips the base and fits his mouth around the head of Yuuri's cock. He can't take him very far, but Yuuri doesn't seem to mind, if his noises are anything to go by. Victor sucks eagerly, and curls his tongue under the head.

"Vitya, Vitya, oh," Yuuri chants. "I've _dreamt_ of this." His voice is soft and high, and it occurs to Victor that in a way this must be just as new for Yuuri.  

He moans around Yuuri's cock, fist tightening and stroking the rest of him. Yuuri is so hot and heavy in Victor's mouth and it's so good, it's so slick from Victor drooling and oh, from Yuuri's come too, spurting on his tongue. Victor swallows as much as he can, but some of it catches on his cheek, and his face must be messy. He doesn't care.

"Wow," Victor says. "What happened to your stamina and taking your time, _Yuuuuri_?"

Yuuri cuts a fond glare at Victor. Once he catches his breath, he grabs Victor's shoulders and pulls him back up so they are face to face. "I said I was going to take my time with _you_ ," he growls. He rolls them over them so Victor is beneath him, pinned down with Yuuri's weight. "I'm going to be so good to you," he says, the intensity of his gaze softened by the affection in his voice. "The best you'll ever have."

A gasp escapes Victor; he arches up into Yuuri, just a little, his full movement restricted by being held down. Yuuri is going to take him. His body is Yuuri's, he is Yuuri's forever, and Yuuri's hands are on him like he knows it and it's _so hot_.

"Please." He arches again, and lifts his head to meet Yuuri for a kiss. Yuuri releases his hands and cups Victor's face. He licks at Victor's cheek, where his come was smeared, then returns to his mouth. He could do this forever, because he loves kissing Yuuri, except now there's a promise of _more_ and he needs it. "Touch me," he begs quietly, lips moving against Yuuri's. "I love you. I've waited twenty-seven years for you, Yuuri. You'll be the first and only man to touch me like this."

Yuuri moans loudly at that, and then, seeming startled by his own reaction, buries his face in Victor's neck.

Victor grins with delight at the unexpected response. "Yuuri. Do you like that?" He's not the only one. "I was untouched before you, my love. Do you like knowing you're the one to deflower me?" He turns his head to nip at Yuuri's earlobe. "To defile my virtue?"

"Oh my god, stop talking," Yuuri says, untangling them from each other, but his voice is strained and Victor can feel him shudder, and counts it as a win. "Turn over," he's told, and he does, Yuuri's hands guiding him how he'd like him. Once he's on his stomach, Yuuri kisses the dip in his back, hands massaging and kneading the bare cheeks of Victor's ass. "Can I--"

"Yes. Anything," Victor replies. He doesn't need to know what Yuuri was going to say next; the answer will always be yes.

Settling between Victor's legs, Yuuri nudges his thighs further apart, then brings his hands back up to Victor's ass. He touches Victor slowly, letting his thumbs just barely dip inside the cleft of his cheeks. One the third pass, he spreads Victor open and leans forward.

At the first touch of his mouth, Victor gasps out an _oh_ , which trails off into a moan. Yuuri presses the tip of his tongue to Victor's rim, teasing but not entering him. He grips Victor's ass and pulls him open further, and seals his mouth to Victor, alternating short strokes with sucking on Victor's hole. Victor cries out and grips the pillow under his head, trying to gain some traction under his knees to push his ass upwards and back into Yuuri's face.

Yuuri is making noises of his own that suggest he’s enjoying himself as well. He presses closer to Victor, sucking and licking harder, and Victor feels like he is a feast devoured.  Yuuri gives his hole a last kiss, and moves lower to mouth at Victor’s balls. He's wet from Yuuri’s spit, and it eases the way when he feels a finger pushing in.

“How much have you done this to yourself?” Yuuri asks.

Victor tosses his head. “Mm, enough. I have toys. You are much more impressive than them, though,” he adds slyly. In reply, Yuuri crooks his finger.  “Ah! Yes, yes.”

“Maybe we should just do this for now.” Yuuri has a small frown on his face, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Nooo,” Victor whines. “I will die, Yuuri. I need more.”

“Hm.” There’s now a little quirk to his mouth, and Victor realizes he had been teasing. Yuuri twists to reach onto the floor, into his bag, and then straightens back up, setting a small bottle of lube on the bed.  There's a condom with it, and Victor pointedly tosses that back onto the floor. 

Yuuri laughs quietly, over the sound of the bottle clicking open. He ducks his head again, licking from Victor’s balls to where his finger is fucking into him. He switches to his thumb, a little broader, coated in lube, stretching Victor just a little more. He drags his tongue flat and sloppy around it.

“Yuuri, _please_.” Victor is rutting into the bed now, and there’s surely a wet spot beneath him. “Yuuri, take me, have me, I’m yours, I need you inside me, I need you to own me and ruin me.” He cries briefly when Yuuri pulls his mouth and fingers away, but takes a breath and continues with, “Your cock, Yuuri please, give me your cock--!”  His babbling is cut short by Yuuri turning him over back onto his back, and Victor goes easily, loose-limbed.  Yuuri is a vision to him: hair in disarray, cock beautifully hard again.

Yuuri shoves Victor's legs up, looks him right in the eyes, full of love. "Are you ready?" he asks softly. 

"Yes," Victor hisses. "Come on, come on." 

And then the head of his cock is pushing inside. Yuuri goes slowly, gently, but steadily, and Victor’s body opens for him.  For Victor, the slightest twinge of discomfort is overridden by how full and complete he feels.

With a kiss to Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri whispers, “I am absolutely going to ruin you, Vitya.” He gives a few short, shallow thrusts. “You feel so good, I want to live inside you.”

Victor cries out at Yuuri’s words. He thinks of himself as a home for Yuuri to live in and it’s right and good. His heart is a home for Yuuri’s love, his body a home for Yuuri’s pleasure. He was meant to remain untouched for this reason, he knows now.

He digs his heels into Yuuri's back, because he needs him closer, closer, until there's not an inch of their flesh that's not connected.

Yuuri starts moving more quickly, deeper, until he hits just the right angle and Victor moans, "Oh, there, there, yes, so good," and he doesn't stop, snapping his hips at an unbelievable pace. Victor is going to come shamefully fast, but he can't be blamed. Finally being with Yuuri like this is transcendental, and his entire body is tingling. "Yuuri, harder, harder, ohhh--" 

"Are you close already, Vitya?" Yuuri teases, cruelly sounding nowhere near as wrecked as Victor feels. He does as Victor asked, though, and on every thrust he brushes Victor's prostate, building the pressure inside him.  Yuuri's firm stomach drags against Victor's leaking cock every time he fucks into him, and it's almost enough, too, but not quite.

Victor bucks his hips up, aiming for more friction. "Touch me--," Victor begs. "Please, I need-- ah!"   Yuuri is a step ahead of him, and his hand is around Victor's cock. Just a few more thrusts, a few more pulls at his cock, and Victor is shaking, coming violently between them.

"There we go," Yuuri says, slowing his movements; his voice, this time, is rough. When Victor stops twitching, Yuuri releases the hold on his legs.  "Beautiful," he tells him, peppering a kiss on his nose. "You look so debauched."

"Don't go," Victor says, breathlessly, when Yuuri starts to pull out.

"It's not going to be comfortable for you." Yuuri's right, he's sure, but Victor wants to savor the feeling as long as he can.

He tugs Yuuri down by his messy hair for a kiss. "Come in me, Yuuri. Mark me." He trails his lips down Yuuri's jaw.  Yuuri rolls his hips, and Victor yelps. "Too much!"

"I told you," Yuuri says, withdrawing gradually.  

Victor still finds himself feeling a little bereft and empty without Yuuri in him. "Alright, Mr. Sexpert. Come up here?"

Yuuri exhales. "Yeah." He shuffles up so his knees are bracketing Victor's chest. Victor grips Yuuri's cock, still slick, and starts jerking him off quickly. Yuuri watches him, flushed from his face down to his collarbones and beyond, open-mouthed, eyes dark with his arousal.  He braces his hands against the headboard and angles a thrust down, and when the head of his cock slips past Victor's fist it brushes Victor's chest, leaving a glistening spot.  

Licking his lips, Victor twists his wrist a few times over Yuuri's cock, and then Yuuri's groaning in relief as he comes all over Victor's chest. It's warm and wet and absolutely filthy and Victor is never, ever going to bathe. He's going to live like this, covered in Yuuri.

He has second thoughts about the never-bathing thing when Yuuri collapses on top of him, mixing the mess between them, then rolls off to the side. Still, it can wait a little while. He snuggles under Yuuri's arm kisses him quickly.

"You're wonderful," he says, nuzzling behind his ear.

"Mm." Yuuri sounds sleepy already. "Love you, Vitya."

There's peaceful, sated silence for a few minutes, and then:

"Eh, Yuuri," Victor mumbles into his chest.

"Mm?"

"Why did you and Phichit need to look up whether you could have sex before competitions, anyway?"

The flush from earlier comes back to Yuuri's face with a vengeance.

"I knew it," Victor gasps. "American rinks have _orgies_! How many innocent men like myself you must have deflowered, Yuuri. _That's_ why."

"No!" Yuuri replies, way too quickly.

Victor pokes him in the ribs, and Yuuri squirms. "Tell me, then."

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Yuuri says. "This afterglow is just about us."

Victor can't argue with that.


	2. Yuuri & Phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to how/why Yuuri and Phichit found out that whole thing wasn't true, anyway.

"Yuuri, did you get a talk from Celestino when you started with him?"

He tears himself away from his laptop screen (currently playing "Victor Nikiforov Hair-Touching Compilation #2") to look at Phichit. "Hm? What kind of talk?"

"You know," Phichit says. "'Phichit,'" he says in a pretty accurate imitation of Celestino's voice, "'you're a responsible young man and I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but I, and any other coach of any value, have a policy that my skaters are not allowed to engage in  _ intimate contact  _ within a week of a competition. Now go work on your toe loop.'"

Yuuri is laughing. "Oh, that one. Yes."

"Do you think it's actually true?"

"I don't see why he'd lie to us," Yuuri says, shrugging. Phichit, freshly eighteen, has been at the rink just under a year, but Yuuri's been with Celestino for two now.

Phichit pulls out his phone. "I'm looking it up. I have needs that can no longer be ignored."

Rolling his eyes fondly, Yuuri replies, "We won't die without sex." 

(Yuuri's only done it, like, twice: once if you count awkward handjobs with Takeshi, which they agreed would never be spoken of again, and then when he first arrived at college, before he got The Talk from Celestino. Then he had to tell the guy from his literature class that he really loved blowing him that one time but couldn't do it again because of reasons. Sure, it had never seemed to impact his skating before he came to Celestino, and it would be  _ nice  _ to do again sometime, but not worth getting in trouble over.)

"Speak for yourself," Phichit pouts. "See. A minute! It took me all of a minute to find articles debunking that. I'm emailing this to Celestino."

"Phichit, no."

"Phichit, yes!" He taps away on his phone and dictates out loud: "Dear Ciao-Ciao, please see the below articles. Also, I may be a little late to practice tomorrow morning."

It's ridiculous and so  _ Phichit _ that Yuuri manages to bypass secondhand embarrassment and just go straight to fond amusement. 

"Now that's taken care of…" Phichit tosses his phone aside and adopts a very serious face. "Yuuri," he says flatly. "How long have you been living like this?"

"Um." Yuuri watches as Phichit crosses over to his bed and sits on the edge. "Like what? You mean the rule? Since I got here?"

With a gentle but clearly exaggerated gasp, Phichit places his hand on his heart. "Yuuri, you are  _ so hot _ , you should be getting laid all the time."

Yuuri feels his face warm. "Not really." He clears his throat. "Anyway, did you really tell Coach you'll be in late tomorrow? Are you going out?"

Phichit leans in closer and Yuuri can see blurred edges of his eyeliner, and he smells so nice, and great, this whole thing has Yuuri thinking about Phichit and sex and--Yuuri is a terrible person for thinking this about his friend, but now he's thinking about it anyway--how his exuberant personality and cute, compact body might translate to other activities, and--

"No," Phichit says, cutting off Yuuri's thoughts. "The entire reason I looked this up is because I have seen you naked but tragically been denied the privilege of touching you."

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

"So, I am going to suck your cock and then ride you like I don't have practice tomorrow. Even though we do. We'll just be late." Phichit beams. "Okay, Yuuri?"

In response, Yuuri grabs Phichit around his waist and pulls him down on the bed.

(He's just as enthusiastic and sweet and hot and good as Yuuri expected, and they have a few more friendly tumbles before Yuuri goes back to Japan, to his family, and later, unknown to both of them right now, to Victor.)


	3. Yakov & Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When will Yakov's suffering stop. (Never.) Takes place a couple months after chapter one (after the GPF, when things calm down a little and Victor has time to consider Yakov's Lies.)

He should know better than to listen to voicemails from Victor by now. On the rare occasion he actually needs to tell Yakov something of importance, he texts. But here he is, listening to Victor's voicemail, with growing horror.

"Yakov, I never got the chance to tell you that I learned the most fascinating thing!" Victor trills in the message. "According to a series of studies done with different sports, having sex doesn't impact how someone does in a competition! I could have been having sex for years, Yakov! All the sex! I would have been a sex god! I was a twenty-seven year old virgin! I--oh, just a moment, Yuuri's telling me something--ah, I'm reminded that does mean that my love has been the only man to ever touch me, which is romantic, don't you think? I suppose we can move past your traitorous lies--oh, _Yuuri--_ "

The message cuts off there, and it doesn't appear that Victor called back to finish his rant.  Yakov silently opens a drawer in his desk, pulling out a bottle of vodka and a shotglass, which he fills to the rim. He knocks it back and refills it.

Then he turns to his computer and opens a new email.  

> To: Celestino Cialdini
> 
> From: Yakov Feltsman
> 
> Subject: URGENT: Katsuki Yuuri
> 
> Message:
> 
> Cialdini,
> 
> You could have done me the courtesy of letting me know your skater Katsuki was aware the old coach's tale about sexual contact before competitions was just that. He's now told Vitya, and I can only assume he, being who he is, will be unable to keep quiet. I am grateful that Georgi has just announced his retirement--it makes me sick thinking what his routines would look like if he was actually regularly intimate with a woman who then broke up with him.
> 
> This is the only way I have been able to keep teenage drama out of my rink! I'm sure you're aware and utilized it for the same reason. Not warning other coaches that a skater has figured it out is a betrayal to the brotherhood.
> 
> How many years do you think I have before Yura starts acting up, and I am without a believable rule such as this to keep him in line? You should hope for many years; when he inevitably starts coming late to practice because of that Kazakh skater, I'm sending you the bill for my wasted time.
> 
> Feltsman

**Author's Note:**

> i thrive on feedback!!
> 
> you can also find me on [tumblr](http://springofviolets.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/springofviolets).


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